


Two Out of Three Ain't Bad

by loopyhoopyfrood, PhryneFicathon



Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 04:28:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17297771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loopyhoopyfrood/pseuds/loopyhoopyfrood, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhryneFicathon/pseuds/PhryneFicathon
Summary: Looking back, there were three major Things That Went Wrong.





	Two Out of Three Ain't Bad

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Geenee27](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geenee27/gifts).



Looking back, there had been three major Things That Went Wrong.

The first, of course, was Phryne Fisher.

* * * * *

The faint scent of french perfume drifting through the air was the only warning Jack received before suddenly finding himself being assaulted by a loud "Archie, darling!" and an altogether-too-enthusiastic kiss to his cheek. Smothering the instinctual urge to grapple his attacker to the floor, and ignoring the small voice in his head that questioned which of them would come out on top, Jack lowered the large wooden crate he'd been holding. Phryne grinned at him.

"What are you doing here?" Jack asked, before remembering their audience and adding an awkward, "Sweetheart."

"You forgot your lunch." There was a rustle, and Jack's hands were suddenly occupied by a brown paper bag, "So, being a kind and considerate wife who just happened to be in the neighbourhood, I thought I'd drop it off for you."

It was fortunate at that point that Jack's recently acquired colleagues were busy staring at his even-more-recently acquired wife, because the look he shot Phryne was definitely not that of a grateful husband.

"Thank you, dearest." He managed from between gritted teeth, "What would I do without you?"

"Oh, I dread to think."

Phryne then had the audacity to wink, and Jack wanted nothing more than to bury his head in his hands and groan loudly. Instead he laughed, or at least managed a strangled noise that could dubiously pass for laughter, and held out his arm.

"May I?"

Phryne giggled - giggled! - and hooked her arm around Jack's elbow as she allowed him to lead her back down the wharf. She waved cheekily at Jack's fellow dockhands as they left, who were all doing a very bad job of pretending not to be staring. Jack let her, forcing his face into a casual smile until he was sure they were firmly out of sight.

"What are you doing here, Miss Fisher?" He demanded, dropping her arm as if it were on fire.

"You didn't honestly think I'd let you investigate without me now, Inspector?"

"This is an undercover investigation." Jack rubbed at his forehead, feeling the beginnings of the sort of headache that only ever seemed to emerge as a direct response to dealing with a certain lady detective, "I cannot have you interfering."

"It's hardly interfering." Phryne said, waving a hand dismissively, "Just think of me as your back up."

"I already have back up, Miss Fisher."

"Well now you have more."

"Phryne..."

"What do we have so far?"

Jack sighed. 

"Someone's smuggling guns." He said, knowing resigning himself to Phryne's involvement would be the quickest way of getting rid of her and back to work, "Random cargo inspections tipped us off, but they're coming from different ships each time so chances are there's far more that we're not managing to stop."

"A crew member?"

"Different crews on each ship." Jack said, shaking his head. "We suspect a team, someone at their end smuggling it on and someone at ours getting it off again."

"Hence the warfie disguise."

"Yes." Said Jack, "The Commissioner's hoping I can discover who's smuggling the guns off the ships."

"Any suspects?" Phryne asked.

"Right now, everyone's a suspect."

"You mean no." Phryne pointed out. "Not to worry Jack, I'll see what I can dig up."

"Miss Fisher-"

"You'll hardly know I'm here." Phryne promised, and before Jack could form a response she was off, flouncing back across the docks with an elegance even her shabby grey dress couldn't disguise. Rubbing away the beginnings of the headache that only ever seemed to arise from dealing with Miss Fisher, Jack sighed, and headed back to continue unloading crates.

* * * * *

The second Thing That Went Wrong was also, technically, Phryne Fisher.

In the interest of fairness however, Jack had decided to blame the lunch box.

* * * * *

Jack hated peanut butter.

This wasn't a new hatred, and given the number of peanut-butter free lunches that had been delivered to the station over the years, he would have said with almost complete certainty that Phryne was well aware of his distaste. Consequently, he was rather confused when he opened the tin box she'd recently procured for him to find the subject of his hatred staring back at him.

Sadly, his confusion didn't last long.

"Oi, Archie!"

Jack looked up from the offending sandwich to find Tommy Kegley, colleague and current number one suspect, waving a familiar tin box at him from across the deck.

"Who the hell eats ham and mustard sandwiches?"

"It's preferable to this swill." Jack called back with a grin, holding up the half-unwrapped sandwich. "Trade?"

"And give up these biscuits? Not a chance!"

At the word 'biscuit' Jack felt his stomach gurgle in anticipation, and he peered hopefully into the lunch box he'd mistaken for his own. Sadly, whilst Phryne seemed to share Mrs Kegley's taste in tin containers, Mrs Kegley did not seem to share Phryne's love of elaborate lunches.

"Oh, what's this? Your missus leaving you love letters, Archie?"

Jack's head shot up, and he felt his stomach drop in horror as Kegley waved the folded piece of paper he'd discovered beneath the biscuits. The only love likely to be in that letter was Phryne's love of clues, and if Kegley decided to read it aloud...

Kegley was reading it aloud.

"Thomas has a brother in England. Suggest keeping an eye on him." Kegley read, and Jack had to fight to keep his expression under control, "What's all that about then?"

"Not exactly a love letter." Jack joked, pretending not to notice the suspicion in Kegley's voice as he desperately tried to think up an explanation. Unfortunately, Jack's brain was too busy sounding alarm bells over the fact that a note laying out their main suspect had just been discovered by said main suspect to be of any use.

"I dunno what it means." He said eventually, biting into the sandwich in his hand in an attempt to appear unruffled, only to almost spit it out again as he remembered what was on it. "Probably some sort of mix-up. I'll ask her when I get home."

"Let us know what she says." Kegley replied, taking a bite out of Jack's sandwich with much more success and a thinly disguised suspicion.

Jack nodded. They'd be having words, but at least Phryne might be able to come up with some sort of viable explanation that would put Kegley at ease.

"Sure.”

* * * * *

The third Thing That Went Wrong wasn't actually Phryne Fisher at all.

Instead, that honour went to Constable William Ernlaid.

* * * * *

"Inspector Robinson!"

It was hard to miss the sound of one's own name, and almost as tricky to ignore it completely. The voice was loud enough that Jack had no hope of achieving the first, but he felt he was managing the second well enough. Or at least he was, until a large hand clamped itself around his shoulder.

"Inspector Robinson!"

Jack had no choice but to turn, doing his best to appear mildly confused and inconvenienced instead of how he really felt, which was quickly approaching absolutely sodding furious.

"'Fraid you've got the wrong man, mate." He said, doing his best to exude as much of a not-a-policeman vibe as possible. He wasn't sure he was very successful.

"Jack Robinson?" The constable asked, confirming Jack's doubts, "From City South?"

"No." Jack tried to insist, glowering at the constable in the hope he'd get the hint. He didn't.

"William Ernlaid, Sir." Constable Ernlaid grinned, his hand still on Jack's shoulder. "We worked together on that case a few months ago, where that group of elderly folk were robbing post offices."

"I've no idea what you're talking about." Jack attempted, acutely aware of the sheer volume of the constable's voice. "Name's Archie, and I've never heard of any Robinson. Now, if you'll excuse me."

Jack shrugged, and Ernlaid got the hint. He let go of Jack's shoulder, only to grab his arm instead as his eyes widened in understanding. Jack's own eyes widened in horror.

"You're undercover, aren't you Sir?" Constable Ernlaid whispered, except whoever taught the man to whisper had clearly been standing several leagues away. "Pretending to be someone else to catch the bad guys? What is it, drugs? Guns? Illegal dog fights?"

Ernlaid stared at Jack with excitement. Jack stared back, decisively less excited and wondering how the hell anyone had let this man become a policeman. Sighing, Jack came to the conclusion that there was only one way he was escaping this conversation.

"You're absolutely right." He said as sarcastically as he could manage, "I'm not actually a dockworker. I'm secretly a police detective working undercover to investigate crates of weaponry being smuggled into Australia."

"Wow." Ernlaid gaped, eyes alight like a kid at Christmas, "That's incredible, Sir. Do let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

"You could let go of my arm." Jack pointed out.

"Oh, right."

Ernlaid finally let go of Jack, and Jack made his escape. Or at least he tried.

"Good luck with the case, Sir!"

Jack groaned, walking faster as the Constable shouted after him. Jack didn't turn, but he had a horrible suspicion that Ernlaid would even be waving. Thankfully, none of the other dockworkers seemed to have noticed anything.

"Who were that then?"

Spoken too soon. Jack shrugged as Kegley followed him across the docks, cursing his terrible luck. Of all the men to overhear.

"Just some dumb copper." He replied, with more feeling than was probably necessary. "Thought I was someone else."

"He seemed pretty sure." Kegley said, eyeing Jack even more suspiciously than usual as they boarded the ship. "You certain you aint this Robinson guy?"

"Never heard of him." Said Jack, forcing himself to laugh whilst at the same time having the undeniable urge to strangle Constable Ernlaid with his bare hands, "And I'd think I'd know my own name."

"You think so, wouldn't ya?" Kegley grinned, and it suddenly struck Jack that it was far too quiet. The deck should have been bustling with workers hurrying to unload the ship's cargo, but as Jack glanced around there wasn't another man in sight. Just him, and Kegley, and...

And that was when everything went dark.

* * * * *

Jack had been cursing the three Things That Went Wrong for a little over two hours by the time the door to the cargo hold swung open to reveal problem number one crouched in the doorway.

"Jack!"

Phryne straightened, hurrying towards him, and Jack politely averted his gaze as she tucked her lock-picks back into her brassiere.

"Are you alright?"

"No permanent damage, Miss Fisher." Jack said, allowing her to help him to his feet. "Although Thomas Kegley is definitely our smuggler."

"I'll say. What happened?"

"Things... went wrong." Jack admitted, rubbing the remarkably-egg shaped lump on the back of his head, "Three things, to be specific."

"And how many of them are you blaming me for?" Phryne asked, apparently having learnt to read minds.

"One."

"Only one? How disappointing."

"I suppose we could stretch it to two."

"Well," Phryne said, looping her arm through Jack's as they made their way out of the room, "Two out of three isn't half bad at all."

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: The prompt you chose: Undercover anywhere, maybe on the docks, in the warehouses, on the ships, where nefarious illegal cargo threatens the safety of the Australian people.


End file.
